


possibly maybe, probably love

by luceat_lux_vestra



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luceat_lux_vestra/pseuds/luceat_lux_vestra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson have been best friends since forever. Loki is in a long-term relationship with Sigyn, while Thor is engaged to be married to a girl named Jane after only a short time in knowing her. Loki freaks out with this revelation and goes on a mission to stop this wedding from happening at all costs. Will Loki's obsessive machinations be a dealbreaker to his lifelong "bromance" with Thor? AU with definite OOC characterization to certain characters, so apologies if this rubs you the wrong way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	possibly maybe, probably love

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to all the amazing Hiddles peeps over at ONTD. Bless!

"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is this…"

 

I hold up my best friend Thor's pristine white wedding invitation, heavily padded and made out of pretentiously stiff parchment, cardstock, and white French lace (clearly _not_ of Thor's personal preference, by the looks of it)—tossing it onto the table of the pizza place we often frequented as if it were covered in germs, where the wonder twins that are Fandral and Volstagg were busy attacking a 24-inch, all-meat, New-York style pizza doused in cheese, tomato sauce, and obscene amounts of hot sauce, onions and garlic.

 

How I can stand to be in the constant company with these two living embodiments of stereotypical comedic film slackers is beyond my scope of reason. If it weren't for the fact that I am close friends with them almost as long as I had been with Thor, I probably would have slammed their two heads against each other a long time ago. But then again, that might not be a good idea considering they look like they could bench-press me during their gym time, and then utilize me as a punching bag afterwards without breaking a sweat.

 

Yeah. Best keep my smart-ass mind in check before I become victim to verbal diarrhea.

 

Fandral grabs the envelope and gapes at it; his calloused, greasy fingers leaving dark oil spots on the paper which secretly gives me a degree of vindictive pleasure.

 

"Thor is _marrying_ that chick Jane?" he asks, mouth full of masticated pizza bread, smoked bacon, mushrooms, bell peppers, and Mozzarella cheese. "Shit! She. Is. A. Total. _BABE_! Fucking lucky bastard."

 

A huge blob of hot sauce drips from his chin and misses the card by mere centimeters. Dammit. Couldn't he at least hit the mark? Didn't he say several times before that he was a proud slob by default? I am beginning to doubt that claim of his after that rather disappointing performance.

 

"Why is this _our_ mission? You want _us_ to get married too?" Volstagg asks in his usual sardonic tone, without looking up from building his Leaning Tower of Pepperoni. "Dude, _forget_ it. That's not happening, for, like, a _very_ long time."

 

Sometimes I wonder if Fandral and Volstagg watched too much _Beavis and Butthead_ (or _Ren and Stimpy_ , _Kenan and Kel_ , _Bananas In Pajamas_ , Spongebob and Patrick, or any other idiotic boob tube duo from kid's shows you can come up with) when they were once innocent to the perverted evils of the world. But then I realize that's giving children's television _way_ too much credit.

 

_Okay, Loki. You're definitely off the train tracks now. Focus!_

 

I schooled my face into a serious expression, took a deep breath, and just laid it out to them in a straightforward manner: "We're _NOT_ letting this wedding happen."

 

"We're not?" Fandral eyes me with mingled confusion as he attempts to stuff his mouth with the tomato-sauce stained pizza crust. Horizontally.

 

"We're not," I repeat firmly, looking at their eyes to make sure I meant business.

 

"Lo, I don't know how to break this to you but… I _really_ think it's about fucking time you got over Thor," Volstagg says to me like I'm some moony-eyed fanatic lusting over fictional film characters or something.

 

Fandral laughs at Volstagg's statement, and the two muscle buddies bump their fists chuckling at the running joke concerning yours truly and my best friend ever since we were in middle school. "Loki boy, trust us, you'll be _fine_! Thor's not the only one with a huge dick in this world! I mean, dude, there are _lots_ of other well-hung boys out there, you know."

 

"Or _girls_ ," Volstagg retorts after Fandral's jibe. "Seriously, I bet you could go back to loving a nice, wet, tight, and juicy piece of pussy again if you set your mind to it. Oh man, do you remember Freya from middle school? Christ, you used to have the _biggest_ crush on that bitch! She already had an impressive rack when all the other girls had tiny, twelve-year-old—!"

 

" _Cut it out!_ " I snapped harshly at them whenever this 'gay/straight/whatever-the-fuck-is-my-sexual-orientation' running joke goes too far for my liking, especially when I am _clearly_ not in the mood to be pissed off. Thankfully, the lovable knuckleheads shut their smart mouths closed and resumed their unprotected culinary sex on the pizza they were shamelessly raping in front of me.

 

For the record, I have a lovely girlfriend. Her name is Sigyn, and we've been together for more than seven years.

 

She is perfect. _We_ are perfect.

 

And I will absolutely accept nothing less but _that_ kind of perfection for my best friend… _My_ Thor.

 

I calmed down long enough to continue talking to my friends.

 

"You guys, you _know_ Thor's been my best friend since kindergarten, and I _can't_ just sit idly by and watch him make the _biggest mistake_ of his entire life!"

 

"Ooh! _Biggest mistake of his entire liiiiiiiiiiiiife!_ " Volstagg mimics me in an irritating faux baby voice that he knew I loathed hearing spoken out loud. "Jesus fuck, how pathetically dramatic can you get, Lo? I _told you_ to quit all this freelance-wedding-photography-internship-whatever bullshit _ages_ ago! Stick to your well-paying advertising gig, do you hear me? Your borderline fey sideline is making you too friggin' girly for my tastes, and frankly, it kinda ruins my manly rep to be around touchy-feely guys like you."

 

I merely scowled and rolled my eyes at him; not deigning to respond to that remark, even if he said and meant it in jest. Fandral, wasting no opportunity to stab another knife in me front-of-face, also jumps right in Volstagg's line of thinking. "Yeah, not that you weren't already touchy-feely before, Loki. You kinda crossed that line, like, _way_ back. But unlike Vulgar Volstagg here, _I_ don't think it's a bad thing. So, you go and be your snap-happy camwhore self, Loki!"

 

Fandral then looks at me with an uncharacteristically exasperated expression and adds, "Loki boy, just let Thor do what he _wants_ to do, yeah? He can handle himself. He's a big guy."

 

"Yeah, like, _literally_ …" Volstagg quips as he started to stab at the remaining pepperoni slices with a toothpick and popping them unceremoniously into his mouth.

 

And Volstagg's right. Thor Odinson is freakishly tall (taller than Fandral _and_ Volstagg) and perfectly built like Michelangelo's famed nude muscle men in his countless works of art. Even when we were kids, he had always towered over us, something that I think Fandral and Volstagg secretly envied underneath their extroverted _Jersey Shore_ pseudo-Guido machismo.

 

I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

 

"I can't just let him do what he _wants_ to do, you idiots!" I stubbornly say. " _I need_ to step in and intervene. Correction, _we_ need to step in and intervene."

 

I am aware that I sound like Julia Roberts forcing a flamingly gay Rupert Everett in sabotaging Dermot Mulroney's sudden wedding to Cameron Diaz in _My Best Friend's Wedding_. And yes, the irony of the goddamn parallel situation is not lost upon me. Except that I am not a redheaded, curly-haired, neurotic restaurant critic with a flamboyantly queer close friend to act as my co-conspirator in interfering with my best friend's wedding. No sir.

 

 _I_ am a highly talented photographer on the verge of artistic stardom stuck with _two_ boorishly straight male slackers (or in the wonder twins' preferred term, "funemployed") who I am hoping will join in on my crusade to save our good friend since childhood.

 

Sadly, my hopes were instantly deflated like a whoopee cushion being sat on by a fat ass when Volstagg and Fandral looked at each other, their prominent brow ridges wrinkling identically in confused hesitation.

 

"Uh, thanks, but no thanks, Julia Roberts," Volstagg decides for the both of them as Fandral silently nods in agreement. "We ain't no cutesy fag like Rupert frickin' Everett, and we're _so_ staying out of this wedding sabotage shit."

 

"Yes," Fandral adds; giving me a knowing, pointed look. "It's _none_ of our beeswax, and it's none of _yours_ either, actually."

 

God, he's been saying ' _beeswax_ ' since he was eleven years old and he still seems to find it funny.

 

Seeing that these two reverse Einsteins were of no help at all, I threw my napkin on the remnants of the violently gluttonous pizza massacre they caused and stood up to leave, not bothering to grab the wedding invitation I blithely ignored during our conversation.

 

"Okay, suit yourselves, then."

 

Volstagg smirks up at me before saying, "Sure. Let me get mine dry-cleaned first."

 

"Yeah, and then I'll need to find my tie, as well," Fandral snickers.

 

"What?" I glower at them.

 

Volstagg widens his taunting sneer, looking terribly pleased with himself.

 

"Christ, Loki, you're so _stupid_ for a seemingly smart guy," Volstagg mocks before slowly voicing his words out to me as if I was a mentally retarded child. "You said, ' _Suit yourself_ ', so I said, ' _Let me get mine dry-cleaned first_ '. And then Fandral here said, ' _I'll need to find my_ —!'"

 

"Funny haha, you asshole," I cut him off while delivering a double-finger flip to him that he simply brushed off with a careless chortle, wishing to God I never opened up the damn subject to these bozos in the first place. "Just so you both know, don't you dare blame _me_ if Thor ends up completely miserable in his wedded bliss."

 

Fandral raises his brow at me. "Like, _duh_! Of course we won't, Loki. We'll totally never blame _you_ …" He deliberately paused to obscenely lick the remaining traces of hot sauce upon his lips while looking straight at me before saying, "Because if it all goes down to shit, we'll totally blame _Thor_ , you moron!"

 

Volstagg looks at Fandral with an approving nod. "Yeah, because Thor's ultimately responsible for his own misery; not you or anyone else, for that matter."

 

I look at the dynamic duo with an air of affronted indignation, unable to believe they could really be this uncaring to their closest friend apart from me.

 

" _That's_ very comforting," I snorted, fishing my keys and phone out my jacket pocket and deciding to leave the wedding invitation behind. "I have to go. Sigyn's waiting for me at her place. I need to see her before I face Thor and Jane tonight. She promised to distract me, at least for a few hours."

 

At this, they flashed their matching sex monster grins at me. Honestly, if I earned a dollar every time I rolled my eyes at the stupid antics of these two, I'd be a billionaire right about now.

 

"Oh yeah, dude, it's _sexy time_!" The gym rats chorus, and I walk out of the pizza place to shouts of unsolicited advice like, "To _hell_ with condoms!" and "Bareback is _best_ , Loki boy!"

 

I turn around and give my rebuttal to them, as I stood at the threshold holding the door.

 

"Yeah, well, look where that type of advice landed Thor in, ass wipes."

 

The genuinely surprised look on their faces was all it took for me to chalk up a huge point on our long-running imaginary snark tallying chalkboard in my favor (Loki – 360; Fandral & Volstagg – 69) as I closed the door behind me, got into my dark green Camaro, and drove off to Sigyn's apartment…

 

 

+++

 

 

"I'm _not pregnant_ , Loki," Jane Foster says pointedly.

 

She glares at me, then takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as if to find her center and do her best not to get pissed off at my very presence. When she opens them again, she is calm and collected, and she looks at me with pity rather than anger.

 

Fucking cunt.

 

She is wearing a necklace of white pearls with matching earrings, and her conservatively crisp white button-down shirt has the collar flipped up and the neat top is tucked properly into her skinny jeans made out of some shiny, dark-colored denim hybrid fabric that visibly reflects light at the slightest movement. Her hair is in a tidy high ponytail, and her lips have remained flawlessly red and glossy even after several sips of water and a few spoonfuls of the beef consommé she ordered.

 

When she smiles at me, her eyes sparkle with generous patience, which makes me think that this is what teachers must look like when they speak with indignant, defensive, and borderline violent parents of hyperactive trouble-making grade schoolers; radiating a saint-like sympathy that stems not from pure and honest kindness, but from a sense of worth that thrives solely on Being The Bigger Person: _You are rude and crass, but I am beyond such immaturity to wisely resist stooping to your parasitic level_.

 

Fucking cunt.

 

I wonder if it requires all effort to act all high-and-mighty, or if it really does come naturally for people who have always been blessed with unattainable looks, unparalleled intelligence, or unending financial wealth than your average person. In Jane's case, it's all three, given that she's an astrophysicist by profession and the surrogate daughter of one of the privately richest men in the United States, Dr. Erik Selvig. I wonder if it ever gets tiring or not to be average.

 

Jane stands up carefully—she is still the epitome of feminine poise and grace—and smoothly walks out of the fine dining restaurant with the sharp, clacking sound of her Alexander McQueen stiletto heels that it is extremely hard for me to feel relatively sorry or at least guilty for the things I have said to the shiny happy couple tonight.

 

Basically, I called them both severely irresponsible and accused her of wanting to rush into marriage not just because she simply wants to defy her overbearing father figure, but also because it gives Thor little time to think things properly through, and therefore less chances of changing his mind about her. I also callously told her that if she wants the baby so badly, she can very well go ahead and decide to abort the unwanted kid, or if she has a motherly bone in her body, decide to have it on her own since she's practically a spoiled trust-fund kid for life unlike the rest of us mere mortals—there was certainly no need to drag my best friend into her prissy intellectual and high-society life that she's supposedly running away from, but will always be part of no matter what rebellious bad girl diva antics she pulls off just to grab her Daddy Dearest's attention.

 

In immediate retrospect, I wish I hadn't said all that (especially the abortion part), but mostly because I knew I was wrong (factually, not morally, mind you) and not because I regret hurting her feelings. Truthfully, it is hard to feel bad for someone who seems so robotically unaffected like Jane.

 

Thor shakes his head at me and furiously blurts out, " _What the fuck, Loki?_ "

 

It was an extremely rare occurrence that Thor would ever be mad at me and hurl profanity in my face without remorse. Inwardly, I flinch at his use of the common expletive directed towards me, but I try not to let it show upon my face that his reaction stung. And although his statement is not an actual question, I knew better than to attempt giving him an actual answer. So, I just shrug and mutter, "Sorry, Thor…"

 

He shakes his head at me one more time; the look on his face clearly shrouded in disbelief that I—his _best friend_ —had said such ruthless things to him and his fiancée.

 

Without a word of farewell, he also leaves and hurries out to follow the poor little bitch girl, leaving me alone at the table just when the waiter comes with Jane's Caesar salad and Thor's Asian chicken salad _sans_ chicken, and I think to myself as I lethargically pluck out my credit card and hand it to the slightly perplexed waiter:

 

 _Yuck. There's no way in freakin' hell I'm eating all these damn vegetables_ …

 

 

+++

 

 

The first time I met Jane just over a year ago, I actually thought she was kind of cute. Little did I know that she came with way more excess baggage than I could possibly handle. Sure, she seemed polite and friendly and was surprisingly upfront about why she ended up in the most ghetto district of New York City of all places. But there was truly something about her that I really couldn't put my finger on, and it drove me completely round the twist.

 

Funnily enough, during our very first meeting, I also thought she was flirting with me.

 

Thor had asked me to meet him at a secluded hole-in-the-wall bistro in the Bronx recommended by our good mutual friend, Steve Rogers. "That place makes things _happen_ ," Steve had supposedly said when he disclosed on how he met his lovely and eccentric boyfriend, Tony Stark, in that very place, and I didn't know why Thor of all people needed to visit some unknown café for things to happen. Frankly, it seemed that good things had always happened for all of his life without him even having to try.

 

He was just one of those lucky few people.

 

Thor Odinson was born with ridiculously perfect genetics courtesy of his Scandinavian heritage, given that his family ancestors were originally from Norway. Thor’s grandfather, Bor, had immigrated to the United States before the Second World War and managed to make a respectable living as an all-around mechanic. Despite coming from a working-class background, Thor’s family now owned three modestly prosperous service garages (the flagship in the Bronx, the second in Chinatown, and the third in Brooklyn) that thankfully allowed him to enroll in a good private school in the Upper East Side when he was a child.

 

In college, he was consistent with his good grades and was always the center of attention amongst the girls in New York University. When we finally graduated from everything and started working, he never complained about his job as being stressful or demanding, given that he practically took over from his father, Odin, and started managing the family business and successfully expanding it to Chinatown and Brooklyn after only two years under his supervision, because, like everything else in his life, it was easy and breezy and naturally perfect.

 

Until Jane came along.

 

"Why are we here?" I asked him as I looked around the cozy interiors of the relatively small bistro.

 

He pretended not to hear me at first, concentrating on adding more marshmallows to his mug of hot chocolate, and I had to ask him again, "Thor, why are we here?"

 

He looked up at me. "I want you to meet someone, Loki. A girl."

 

I laughed. "Thor, I have a girlfriend, remember?"

 

He flashed that infectiously sunny smile that I knew was reserved only for me when I amused him in one way or another.

 

"I know you have a girlfriend, you moron!" Thor said. "So do I…"

 

I immediately felt a rush of happiness for him when he broke the news.

 

"Wow! That's great!" I told him as I reached out over the table to clasp his hands folded over the table protecting his hot chocolate. His last real relationship was back in our college junior year. "Since when? Who is she? Come on, Thor, spill! You know you gotta abide by the laws of the Bro Code…"

 

Again, he smiled, but Thor seemed so… at peace. Normally, he'd be his usual chipper and chatty self whenever something good came his way. I knew at that moment that this one was different, but I didn't want to press on the matter unless he was the one who would open up the subject.

 

He took a deep breath and let it out.

 

"Since last week," he said, his piercing blue eyes looking deep into my cool green ones. "Her name's Jane. Jane Foster."

 

"Right… So her name's Jane, and… What? Is that the only thing I'm ever gonna know about her? No, ' _she has amazing lips_ ' or ' _she's a knockout supermodel_ ' or ' _she's got a great sense of humor_ ' even? Come on, Thor… Throw me a boner—I mean— _bone_ here, will you?"

 

I laughed off my nerves thinking that Thor really took offense at what I had just said, but upon careful observation of his body language made me realize that I was fortunately in the clear. I silently thanked to God that years and years of being his best friend let me know that he was really mad at me or not simply by looking at his actions.

 

Thor looked at me and gave me that for-Loki-only smile, as he caressed the mug in front of him and softly said, "Her name's Jane, and… I don't _know_ , Loki. She's really something else, you know?"

 

That was when I realized it all clicked to me.

 

He was indeed head over heels for this… Jane. This was approximately how I felt when I first got together with Sigyn. I felt nothing but pure joy and empathy to his situation and I reached out once more to clasp his hands in a supportive gesture.

 

"I bet she is," I said, looking deep into his eyes. "You're not introducing her to me over pizza and beer while Fandral and Volstagg crack dirty jokes at your expense and blatantly ogling her. And it seems you actually appear worried about me getting along with her, or at least worried enough to believe Steve's claims about this place. Whoa… It must be serious, yeah?"

 

"It is…" Thor replied, as he took my hand in his and tenderly clutched it; the simple act of it telling me all I need to know that he craved and valued my opinion of his situation without the use of words.

 

We remained like that for what seemed like an eternity, staring at each other's eyes and holding each other's hands and not ruining the moment by breaking the silence; absorbing the meaning of those two words he had uttered until the door opened and a girl with a petite, gamine figure and glossy, wavy, dark mahogany hair entered the tiny bistro, wherein Thor immediately disconnected our intimate physical contact much to my slight dismay.

 

The girl posed near the door and surveyed the room for a moment like she owned the place, and when she caught Thor's eye, she smiled and walked over to our table. Thor stood to kiss her by the corner of her lips.

 

So _this_ is the Jane that I haven't yet heard so much about.

 

"Sorry if I'm late," she told him as Thor gallantly pulled back a seat for her as she graciously sat down by the table; putting her in between us boys with me on her left and Thor to her right. "I had another screaming match on the phone with my dad back at the hotel. The usual father-daughter drama. Whatever. I'm not coming back to New Mexico for a long while if I have anything to say about it."

 

The second I heard those words coming out of her mouth, I knew that she was the kind of girl who didn't have to work a day in her life. Those sentences alone were enough for me to know exactly who this girl was without telling me her supposed sob story of being a misunderstood heiress with a domineering father figure. She was the kind of girl who never let herself feel any semblance of stress, and the kind of girl who is used to being driven around in a shiny black limousine by a uniformed chauffeur, until she decided she'd had enough and simply ran away on a whim just to push her daddy's temper buttons until threats of cutting off her trust fund would scare her back home and repeat her "hellish" ordeal of living the good life under duress.

 

Yes, it's _very_ nice to meet you indeed, Jane…!

 

"No problem, Jane," Thor said. "We just arrived here."

 

Uhm, we did _not_ just arrive here, thank you very much. We were here at 6 P.M., sharp. Time check: it is now exactly seven-thirty. Earth to Thor!

 

Unaware of my sudden uncomfortable feelings, Thor called over a waiter to order Jane a drink, just as his girlfriend deposited her huge Christian Dior bag between us on the table, almost knocking over my tall glass of lemon iced tea and leaving me little room to prop up my elbows.

 

Jane gave me a smile and a little wave, even though we were just six inches away from each other.

 

"You must be Loki."

 

"Hi," I replied, forcing what I hoped looked like a genuine smile upon my face. "You must be Jane."

 

"Nice to meet you, Loki. Anyway…" she began to prattle on about trivial things to which I merely listened impassively as she talked and proceeded to giggle after her last trite sentence, thinking it was a smart thing for her to say.

 

Jane turned her gaze away from me as she reached out to her bag and rummaged in it until she took out a compact vanity mirror where she studied her appearance. I saw her tucking her hair behind her ears and I noticed that her nails were painted a pale, shimmering pink that matched her pink pearl earrings and the pearl necklace round her slender neck. Everything about her looked so… coordinated. She smelled clean and disinfected and artificial; almost as if she stepped out of a perfume laboratory.

 

Nothing about her olfactory aura at all smelled remotely natural, unlike my girlfriend, my two close friends, and my Thor.

 

After conversing with the waiter, Thor excused himself to go to the bathroom, and the second he was out of earshot, she made a disgusted face at the whirring ceiling fan overhead, clearly displeased with the lack of air conditioning in the humble establishment.

 

"Christ, it's _so hot_ in here!" Jane loudly complained for the staff to hear as she took off her cropped jacket to reveal a sheer white cotton blouse. She leaned forward to take a sip of Thor’s hot chocolate (I guess she doesn't yet know my best friend _hates_ anyone taking a sip from his drinks which he never shares), and her substandard cleavage dipped an inch or two. She then turned back to me, smiling, and outright asked, "So what are you doing on Friday? How does dinner and a movie sound?"

 

"Oh—uh, wow…" I stammered, reaching out for my iced tea to keep my mouth from spilling any incoherent words and humiliating myself in front of this girl.

 

I have to concede that Jane was beautiful by any man's ideal physical standard for a woman. In fact, she had a very pretty smile—full lips, even white teeth—and I was trying to focus on her face while trying to keep mine from turning red. I couldn't believe she was actually _coming on_ to me!

 

"Uh, I have a _girlfriend_ ," I said without thinking, and instantly regretted not phrasing my words tactfully. _Yeah, real smart right there, Loki._

 

"I know," she said, knitting her perfectly shaped eyebrows. "I meant me and Thor with you and your girlfriend. Like, a double date?"

 

If she was embarrassed by what I has just assumed had happened, at least she was tactful enough not to call me on "it", nor even acknowledge that "it" had happened. Point to Jane.

 

"Yeah!" I said, suddenly hit by an exaggerated wave of excitement that was so unlike me. "That's a great idea! Awesome!"

 

"What's awesome?" Thor asked as he returned from the restrooms.

 

I practically bugged my eyes out as I smiled at him with probably a freakishly hyper grin on my face as I chirped out way too eagerly, "We're going out on Friday! On a double date, and I cannot wait! It was _totally_ Jane's idea! Isn't it awesome?"

 

Seriously, when I get back home, I am going to heavily sedate myself from this unwanted burst of faux elation. Cheerleaders everywhere must be mortified at my actions even for their mega-chipper standards.

 

People may not realize it, but Thor is as astute about reading people as I am, and he most likely sensed that I was emotionally all over the radar at the moment.

 

He schooled his face between amusement and concern as he asked me, "Hey, are you okay, Loki?"

 

When I didn't answer right away, he looked at Jane, who didn't notice Thor looking at _her_ because _she_ was busy studying _me_ like I was some secret alien specimen that crash landed in Roswell and kept in suspended animation by the U.S. military and government in Area 54. She recovered quickly (much to my relief), put a hand on Thor's arm and said, "He's fine, Thor. I think he's just hungry. Again, I'm really sorry I was so late. Do you guys want to stay here for dinner? Because I kind of want a real meal somewhere else, if you don't mind. Plus, I'm also starving myself."

 

Thor shrugged as he looked at me. "Yeah, I guess we can cancel our orders and move somewhere else. What do you think, Loki?"

 

"You guys can go ahead," I told them when I was less hyper enough to regain my conscious thoughts. "I'm waiting for Sigyn. My girlfriend."

 

"Well… okay. If you say so, Loki," Thor said as he looked at me curiously.

 

Jane plucked her fancy Dior bag from the table, stood up as Thor eased out of his own seat, and patted me gently on the shoulder. "So, we'll see you and Sigyn on Friday, then?"

 

"Sure!" I grinned way too tightly, my teeth grinding against each other. "I'll be sure to bring my girlfriend, Sigyn."

 

"Great!" Jane squeaked.

 

"Yeah, great!" I chirped as well.

 

Thor wrapped an arm around Jane's waist, regarding me with that curious look which sensed that something was definitely amiss with my behavior. "Well, goodbye Loki. Say hi to Sigyn for me, okay?”

 

“I will. Bye, Thor! You two take care!”

 

And so, I watched them leave the bistro.

 

But just before the door closed, Jane whispered something in Thor’s ear that made him laugh loudly, and I wondered if it had anything at all to do with me.

 

Fucking cunt…

 

 

+++

 

 

 

"You used to like her," Sigyn reminds me, fiddling with the touchscreen display of my iPod before settling on an indie music playlist currently playing Florence + The Machine wailing about her lover being a hard soul to save.

 

I frown at her statement as I lowered the volume slightly so we could hear each other properly. "No, I didn't."

 

Sigyn snickers as she turns to me with a skeptical grin. "Yes, you _did_ ," she insists with a smug smile on her face. "You said you found her cute!"

 

"Yeah, but just because I _said_ I found her cute doesn't automatically mean I _like_ her," I smartly countered and added, "Plus, finding someone cute is not mutually exclusive to having to like someone. So there."

 

Sigyn rolled her eyes, but maintained her amused smile. "Whatever. The _point_ is that you were fine with Jane when she was just Thor's girlfriend. You just started freaking out when he proposed to her."

 

"I wasn't _fine_ with her!" I hotly replied, struggling to keep my rising voice in check. "I just _tolerated_ her. There's a glaring difference. I just… hoped that she'd go away sooner or later. Clearly, I was wrong."

 

And the sad fact of the matter was that it was true.

 

As I slowly got to know Jane, her calculated and controlled nature became less endurable and more like something that was getting in the way of Thor being his old, fun self. Of being the best friend that I knew would _never_ change for anyone, not even for me.

 

We hardly saw Thor anymore, and he was always coming up with excuses for everything as time passed by spent in the company of Jane. Unbroken ritual of Friday night out with the boys? He'd have to ask her permission first. A quick basketball game after work? He'd love to join us, but he promised her to take her out and visit all the service garages his family owned around the city. A spontaneous weekend trip to Montauk to go surfing? He can't, because she just had another argument with her filthy rich father who was outraged when he found out through discreet private detectives tracking her around New York that his surrogate daughter was romantically involved with a "blue-collar grease monkey", and she needed emotional support.

 

There was no doubt in my mind that she was officially a fucking cunt even before that offensive dig against my best friend's profession and social status came to light.

 

Sigyn huffed loudly and snapped me out of my thoughts.

 

"Loki, you _can't_ be this possessive of Thor. You're being selfish," she says. "You thought you and Thor would be each other's wingman until you're both thirty-five or something, and now you feel betrayed that he's going to get married now—against all odds, which I might add—while you could both be enjoying the bachelor's life."

 

"Yes, Sigyn. That's exactly the right word," I say as I turned to look at her with a smirk. " _Betrayed_. Yes, that is _exactly_ how I feel and what he did to me. Explain to me why there's even anything remotely wrong with feeling that."

 

"Because it's _not fair_ to Thor," she retorts, sounding frustrated with me. "He made a decision that he is willing to stand and fight for, and he clearly needs your full support. Why can't you just be _happy_ for him?"

 

"Because _I'm not_ , okay?" I tell Sigyn a little too loudly and angrily. At this, she turns away, crosses her arms over her chest, and looks out of the tinted car windows of my Camaro.

 

I reach for her hand. She lets me take it, but does not wrap her fingers around mine like she always does.

 

"I'm sorry," I murmur softly but loud enough over the moderately-volumed music playing out of the speakers of my iPod dock. "I just… I think that Thor is making a big mistake over this relationship. He hasn't known her long enough. Sigyn, he doesn't _know_ her the way you and I know each other. Like, deep and real and soulful knowledge of each other. How can you _possibly_ know someone well enough to marry her in just over a year?"

 

Sigyn turned her gaze away from the window, but still didn't look at me, instead focusing her gaze on our hands touching. "You can't compare them with us, Loki. It's different for everyone."

 

My stubborn streak refused to submit.

 

"And she's trying to _change him_!" I complained, making a huge effort not to let my voice go past a confrontational tone again. "She's trying to change him into something she's not. She can't do that. She has no right. I mean, you've never tried to change me, have you? You love me just as I am, even though I obviously need a major boyfriend overhaul. And I could say the same about you, Sigyn. Not once did I try to change you from your unique ways. You are who you are, and I would never trade it for anything, and you know that…"

 

This prompts her to squeeze my hand back. But then she says, "You're right, Loki. But maybe… maybe Thor thinks he needs to change, too. Maybe he's willing to do it for her."

 

"But he shouldn't have to."

 

"But maybe he wants to anyway."

 

For once, I cannot come up with a suitable counterattack for this response.

 

Sigyn leans her head on my shoulder and starts running her hand up and down gently on my arm—her usual way of comforting me, which miraculously works without fail even when I am in the worst mood possible. I can smell her lush, gilded hair—like the meadow back at upstate New York I once took her to when we went camping—and definitely not for the first time in more than the seven years we've been together, I feel very lucky that this amazing woman is my girlfriend.

 

Because what we have is more stable and special than what any other couple will ever come close to.

 

I gently lean my cheek against her head as I entwined our fingers together, both of us not saying a word as we listened to Sia crooning a melancholic piano-driven love ballad that fittingly encapsulates _our_ beautiful relationship…

 

 

+++

 

 

Fandral is being melodramatic again.

 

He slams his beer bottle down on the table, crumples his Sloppy Joe-stained napkin, and throws the makeshift tissue-paper cannonball at me.

 

"You _lied_ to me, Loki! Why, man? _Why?_ "

 

I rolled my eyes for what seemed like the billion-and-fourth time in my life. "I _did not_ lie to you, Fandral. Sigyn said last week that she really wanted to meet up with you guys again, but she sent me a text just an hour ago saying she got called at the office to do some overtime."

 

"But—but I…" Fandral exasperatedly gestures his arms from his chest to his feet. "Jesus Christ, Lo! I—I'm wearing a _clean shirt_! And _pressed pants_! And _SHOES_! _WITH LACES!_ "

 

I snickered with forced restraint, even though I wanted to laugh my ass off at his antics.

 

"Yes, I can _see_ that," I say. "But I've told you a thousand times: you don't have to dress up for Sigyn! She seriously doesn't mind. For real."

 

" _For real?_ " Volstagg skeptically repeats, raising his brow at me while gulping down his cold beer. "Do you honestly expect us to believe that Sigyn, the epitome of effortless style, doesn't mind that we dress up like the slobs that we are in wife beaters, board shorts, and sandals?"

 

I don't even want to try and tackle that reply.

 

"Seriously, look at me," I say, gesturing to my own casual ensemble of short-sleeved button down, plaid shorts, and leather sandals in contrast to the more formal suit-and-tie outfits I once favored before. Since I resigned from my full-time job at the advertising agency several months ago to fully commit to my photography career, I admit to having been slightly partial to this laidback, _hakuna matata_ lifestyle that the dynamic meathead duo wholeheartedly embraced with a passion.

 

However, I draw the line at slacker fashion and not deplorable manners and minor neglect of personal hygiene. It's truly a miracle that I'm fully desensitized to Fandral and Volstagg's… manly auras whenever I hang out with them. Of course, easy girls they charmed usually had to get over the initial shock of their Pepe Le Pew aroma before doing the nasty with them. God only knows how many showers those poor ladies need to wash the raw, masculine stink off the wonder twins from their bodies.

 

"For your information, Sigyn's never ashamed that I look like this even when we go out for dates, you turds," I point out. "Why should she be ashamed of _you_? You know she likes you guys despite your unsavory flavors of entanglement. And besides, neither of you are the boyfriend. You're just the boyfriend's friends. She. Doesn't. _CARE_."

 

Volstagg just shakes his head at me. "Yeah, but dude, you look like—"

 

"Like her older brother?" I interrupted, knowing what he was about to say. "Whatever, that's fine. I'm fresh-faced, what can I say? The ladies, and my girlfriend most importantly, find it appealing."

 

"Nah," Volstagg objects, waving a finger at me. "More like her _personal assistant_."

 

"Pussy-whipped _slave boy_ ," Fandral butts in.

 

"There to haul the bags of groceries."

 

"There to open car and restaurant doors."

 

"There to cook and wash and clean her apartment."

 

"There to fix her fucking coffee."

 

"There to wipe the pussy juices off her thighs after sex."

 

I laughed. "Okay, _okay_ , I get it, you assholes!" I say. "But I'm seriously telling you, it's not a big deal. Sigyn doesn't judge. She's not like, well… not like Jane Foster."

 

Volstagg plasters a wicked grin on his face and I immediately regret mentioning that woman's name.

 

"Oh, _Loki_ …!" Volstagg coos at me as he flutters his eyes. "We know Sigyn's not like… _Jane Foster!_ "

 

Fandral, ever the comedic opportunist, also goes in for the kill. "Yeah, totally! Like, nobody can _possibly_ be like… _Jane Foster!_ "

 

I smirk, proud at myself for not being the least bit affected by their usual taunting attempts using the fucking cunt residing in New York City at this moment.

 

"So what's wrong with Sigyn, then?"

 

"Absolutely nothing, Loki boy!" Fandral replies, as he finally decided to fully unbutton his shirt and reveal his gym-sculpted abs. "Honestly? Sigyn's friggin' _perfect_ , dude!"

 

Volstagg nods wisely. "And _that's_ the problem," he says, thrusting his finger against my chest to emphasize his point. "Because _you_ , my dear friend, are _not perfect_. And the sad part is that you're not even trying to be."

 

I stare at both of them like their devil tails and horns had dropped off and a golden halo and wings replaced them.

 

Could these two whack brainiacs possibly be making enough sense to lead me to an epiphany replete with the clichéd Hallelujah Chorus? I begin to seriously consider it, but I am instantly distracted when Thor storms in the relatively empty pizza place, takes a seat beside Volstagg, gulps down Fandral's beer, and completely ignores me.

 

I leaned forward on the table. "You can't ignore me forever," I gently tell him. He doesn't say anything nor looks me in the eye.

 

Fandral clearly is enjoying the man-drama in front of him. "Apparently, he can, Loki boy," he says with a small chuckle.

 

Like his partner-in-crime, there is no doubt that Volstagg is enjoying this, as well. I wouldn't put it past them to have placed bets beforehand to see which one of us would throw the first punch.

 

An awkward silence descends over the table.

 

"Thor, why are you so mad at me?" I politely ask, just so I wouldn't appear too provoking and to relieve the uncomfortable stillness, as well.

 

"Oh, I don't know…" Thor says as calmly as possible. "Maybe because you assumed Jane and I were getting married because we were, oh, I don't know… having _a baby_ , and not, oh, I don't know… because we were _in love_?"

 

He is flushed and out of breath despite the calm pacing of his response at me. It's still majorly awkward, but at least it's not silent anymore. It's a good start.

 

"You don't have to keep saying, ' _oh, I don't know_ ', Thor," Fandral chimes up. "Completely unnecessary because you _do_ know!"

 

"Yeah, and one ' _oh, I don't know_ ' is enough for sarcastic purposes, otherwise, that's kinda dishonoring the art of snark, bro," Volstagg quips. "Essentially, Loki boy here got the point: that you think he's being a total first-class asshole."

 

I glared at him in protest. "He didn't say that, Volstagg!"

 

"Doesn't mean I don't _think_ it," Thor mutters in an undertone loud enough for me to hear, shooting fleeting dagger looks at me with gritted teeth.

 

Whoa, for a second there, he actually looks kind of creepy; like a rabid werewolf but not in a mysterious, intriguing Alcide Herveaux kind of way. Not that I find Alcide Herveaux from _True Blood_ remotely attractive.

 

"Ooh, snap!" Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber chorus gleefully and practically drooling for the fists to start flying.

 

"You know what? This is a fucking waste of my time," Thor says as he pushes the table away from him that one of the Formica-topped corners hits against my ribcage sharply; the sudden shift knocking over a couple of empty glasses during his outburst and shattering to the floor with a loud crash. I hope he pays for those because he's currently the only one amongst the four of us working full-time even if he's his own boss.

 

Then he stands up and looks at me directly for the first time in months.

 

"I came here because I thought you were actually man enough to apologize, Loki. But now I see that I was wrong. _Again_."

 

His voice is clearly laced with hurt even though his words burned with acid. He fishes out a couple of crumpled hundred-dollar bills from his battered leather wallet, sends it flying to the table, and says to me, "I'll see you when I need you. I'll see you when I do…"

 

Then Thor turns on his heel and walks out of the pizza place, loudly slamming the door in his wake.

 

Jesus, could he be more sensitive to innocent inanimate objects tonight? I'd rather he direct his anger on my stomach or face than do a ridiculous display of anger displacement towards tables and drinking glasses and doors.

 

Fandral and Volstagg look at me expectantly when I turned to look at them.

 

"What?" I say, gingerly aligning the table back to its proper position while trying to avoid the sharp shards of glass on the floor currently being cleaned up by a very disgruntled waitress who saw the whole ordeal.

 

"Dude, you _totally_ have to go after him!" Fandral persuades me. "You have no other options whatsoever according to the Universal Laws of Bromance in the Bro Code."

 

"He's right, Loki," Volstagg says as he adds, "You'll run across the parking lot to catch up with him. You'll grab his arm and then shout, 'Wait, Thor!' And then you'll finally tell him what you've been dying and wanting to tell him since you two were pushing crayons up your noses: 'You're my best friend, Thor! Please don't marry Jane!'"

 

"Don't forget to say, 'Marry me instead, please! I love you, man!'" Fandral finishes in a comedic flourish. "Then cue dramatic orchestral music by John Williams, fireworks display, and a big fat gooey and gay happy ending for you both. Booyah!"

 

"Booyah!" Volstagg echoes as he performed the rather complicated secret handshake that I sometimes could never get the hang of with Fandral.

 

I look at them in confused amusement. "Wait. Why do I have to shout at him when I've already grabbed his arm?"

 

"Fucking minor details, dude," Volstagg laughs off with a casual wave of his hand. "Well? What the fuck are you waiting for?"

 

"Go get him, tiger!" Fandral cheers encouragingly, his dimples peeking out as he grinned at me.

 

Feeling emboldened, I stand up and rush out of the pizza place without a backwards glance at them and their rousing tribal chants for me to not screw things up with Thor.

 

"I won't let you two down…!" I shouted just before I passed through the door.

 

 

+++

 

 

So, that's exactly what I did.

 

I went after Thor, and I catch him just in time about to mount his Harley-Davidson motorcycle by the parking lot outside the pizza place, and then I finally tell him not to marry Jane. Those two meatheads are probably gloating over their apparent luck that they got a front-row seat at the unfolding drama by the window of the pizza place.

 

"You don't know enough about her to love her," I reasoned with him in a placating tone, just as I rehearsed in my head for several weeks. "Thor, she hasn't been in your life long enough for you to spend the rest of it with her."

 

I feel very noble and very clever and very proud of myself that I finally let this nagging thing off my chest. But then Thor suddenly crams it back in and felt like he superglued the opening shut.

 

" _Fuck you, Loki!_ What gives you the right to tell me what to do?" Thor angrily spits out to my face as he shoves me away hard by the shoulder.

 

I proudly resist getting physical with my best friend as I maintained my non-confrontational manner.

 

"Thor, _listen_ to me. I'm in a seven-year-plus relationship, so I think I know what I am talking about," I say to him with a determined look in my eyes. "Besides, doesn't it bother you that Jane's such a huge control freak? Don't you mind the reality that you'll most likely never get to have as much fun as you did when you were single? When you were spending time with me?"

 

He straightens up to his full height (when he does that, the top of my head just barely reaches his forehead), looks down at me, and proceeds to give me a disdainful sneer that I admit had a heartbreaking effect on me.

 

"No," Thor breathes down at me, and then turns away to finally mount his personally customized black Harley Sportster. When he settles down on the motorcycle, he looks back at me and sighs. "Priorities change, Loki… People grow up. I'm just beginning to understand and realize that. I expected you of all people to know and accept it without question."

 

I frown, knowing that he was right, but there was still this stubborn nugget of resistance inside me that was unwilling to wave the white flag. It wanted to give one last defying blow. So I allowed that stubborn nugget to step back in the ring and fight until it would be subjected to the inevitable TKO punch.

 

I step closer until I am close beside Thor, our heads level now that he was sitting down on his beloved hog he had since high school. I curl a corner of my lips into a tentative smile, and place a hand to his warm cheek; Thor looking at me with his soul-searching crystal blue eyes yet conflicted about feeling such waves of anger at me.

 

"But you don't _understand_ , Thor…" I murmur, even though there is no one within a two-meter radius to overhear what I am saying to him. "You don't have to pretend that you don't care that this is moving too fast. It's okay. I'm only trying to help. Thor, I…"

 

Impulsively, I lean in to him, tenderly grab his face with both my hands, and put our foreheads together; the tips of our noses separated by a hair's width, our breaths filling the dangerously close gap between our lips with an intense warmth against the cold night.

 

And possibly for the first time in my life, I heed Fandral's advice and say to Thor the words I never had the chance to say to my lifelong best friend, despite all of the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years that we have spent together doing what close male friends do.

 

And I found to my surprise that the words didn't come easily—they only filled my heart.

 

"Thor, you're my _best friend_ … I only want what's best for you… _I love you_ , man…"

 

Immediately after saying that, my lips brushed against his and remained there for what felt like an eternity.

 

Thor closed his eyes and leaned forward to push his lips against mine, his scratchy blond beard bristling against my face as I felt his calloused hand gently caress my cheek. The irregular sounds of his breathing was a clear indication that he was trying hard not to cry in front of me. I am confident in the knowledge that he would never shed a tear every time we confide our sorrows and then wallow in each other's misery. But I was greatly taken aback when I felt a slight track of moisture trickling down against my face, and I realized that it was coming from Thor.

 

He must have sensed that I knew his waterworks were defiantly leaking because with a complete 180 that threw me by surprise (quite literally), he roughly pushed me away; knocking the wind out of my chest as I barely managed to find my balance to prevent toppling over and falling to the concrete ground from the force of his shove.

 

I shot him a sort of WTF-was-that-for look when he told me, "No! You _don't_ want what is best for me, Loki! Because if you did, you would freely allow me this happiness that I… that I want, that I _need_ with Jane, even if it kills you deep inside that she is and will always be part of my life from now on! And by negative default, you also _don't_ understand, too. I'm not pretending, and I really don't give a shit right now if you love me. I'm ready to marry Jane."

 

At a loss for words, my eyes do the pleading as I attempt to go near him, but he holds up a threatening hand, and I stop mid-step towards him.

 

" _Don't_ —! D-don't… come any closer, Loki!" Thor angrily stammers, clearly agitated at having to dismiss me in such a way. "I want to say that I love you too, but… I _can't_. And God fucking dammit, I _fucking love you so much_ that it's gonna hurt me more than it will hurt your selfish ass! You say that it’s okay, but in fact, it's _not_. What you're doing to me? It's not cool. I'm not okay. I can't—I can’t love you back if you're gonna keep on doing this to me. And no, I don't need your help. The only one who knows what's best for me is _me_ , so just leave me alone."

 

Fuck.

 

And before he sticks the key into the ignition, revs the engine, and speeds off into the night, he looks at me one last time and says, "By the way, Sigyn called me, saying she was looking for you. She says you were supposed to celebrate your fucking perfect relationship's eighth anniversary yesterday, if only you remembered because apparently you were MIA doing your photography gig or whatever the hell you're doing these days. Sigyn says she never wants to see you again. She might be exaggerating, but what the fuck do I know? I’m not the one with the shit in the long-term relationship about to hit the fan. I tried to talk some sense into her, but she cut me off before I could persuade her otherwise. I just thought you’d want to know…”

 

Double fuck…

 

 

+++

 

 

The bride isn't smiling.

 

The groom isn't smiling either.

 

And then, the soon-to-be husband and wife find each other’s' gazes, and to them, everything else fades into the background. Nothing else matters. He nods lovingly at her; it is the slightest movement, but she catches it and she returns the gesture just as subtly.

 

I don't know the bride. I don't know the groom.

 

I don't know anything about these people at all, but I can't bring myself to do what I always do when confronted with happiness that isn't mine—doubt it and dismiss it and then tear it down. I can't, because it is there; almost tangible, despite the fact that neither of them are smiling yet.

 

Because I know that once she reaches the end of the aisle and walk up to the altar where the black-and-white robed priest is waiting, she will smile with a stunning radiance that will brighten the space. And I know that he too will join her in lighting up this world with their love witnessed by their friends and family and hired strangers.

 

Strangers like me...

 

+++

 

 

Seven months.

 

I have been wallowing in this emotional black hole for seven months. And counting.

 

And all I can think about was that kiss Thor and I shared before everything fell apart.

 

Thor.

 

My Thor no longer…

 

Desire is a mirror, and I am trapped in a state of unrequited longing without its reflection. Desire shines and lies and flickers like a supernova. It leads you forward and it leads you in the dark and you can still feel it glowing.

 

I feel untrustworthy and unworthy. Along the way, I learned to set it aside and sought out something less. When the fire was cold, it was safe to move forward. This painful, wrenching feeling in my heart was my punishment for the acts of selfishness I have carelessly thrown about with no regards to the feelings of the one person I truly cared about. His savage, singular beauty with a glow of a thousand suns haunts me in my sleep and in my waking life now defined by this soporific quality. There is nothing I have that can’t be taken, and it only in the taking that I can find my rapture.

 

The memories of the times I’ve spent with him are all that I have and stubbornly remains in my consciousness.

 

It is only with his indefinite absence that I realize that I have fallen deeply in love with him.

 

I have fallen in love with Thor Odinson, and he is the one who has endured in this tragic life of mine.

 

I killed him once and yet I died for him many times, and still I have nothing to show for it.

 

I shall always yearn for him, I will always remember Thor.

 

And I carry this fruitless hope that he will remember me, Loki Laufeyson…

 

 

+++

 

 

And by some strange, blessed miracle. He remembers…

 

 

+++

 

 

“Loki…?”

 

“Thor…?”

 

“Yes. Yes, it’s me.”

 

Silence.

 

“How are you?”

 

“I… I don’t know.”

 

“It’s been a long while.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

 

“Loki, I was wondering… Can I see you?”

 

“…Pardon?”

 

“C-can I… see you? I mean, if that… if that’s alright with you.”

 

Hesitation.

 

“…Sure.”

 

A sigh of relief.

 

“Do you still remember that small bistro where I took you? The one Steve recommended?”

 

“Of course. Of course, I remember.”

 

“Okay. Shall I see you there tonight?”

 

Indecision.

 

“Or maybe some other time when you’re available. I apologize if this is all sudden for you.”

 

“No, no… Tonight is fine. I’ll see you there. Same time as before?”

 

“Yeah, as before…”

 

“Alright then…”

 

Awkwardness.

 

“So I guess I’ll see you later, then. Goodb—“

 

“Wait!”

 

“…What is it?”

 

“I miss you _so much_ , Thor…”

 

My heart stops.

 

My voice breaks.

 

He does remember.

 

 _He called me by his name_ …

 

“I… I miss you too, Loki. _My Loki_ …”

 

Another sigh of relief.

 

“Tonight?”

 

“Yes, tonight.”

 

“I’ll see you then, Loki…”

 

“You too, Thor…”

 

 

+++

 

 

If you think about it, it’s like a conversation: you’re just waiting for your turn to talk, or looking for the right words.

 

That’s when someone asks you a question.

 

Maybe then you’ll notice the music.

 

It’s the music that really talks to you, that tells you what to do.

 

All you have to do is listen.

 

Maybe you won’t remember which music was playing, or what you were wearing.

 

You’ll only be left with one glance, one touch, one confession…

 

And one moment of passion that will last long after the music is over…

 

 

+++

 

 

In the soft light of the growing sunrise, I remember…

 

Last night had been right—this was coming home, like asking: “Where have you been all my life?”

 

Which was another way of asking: “Where were you all this time, Thor?”

 

Which was yet another way of asking: “What is my life without you?”

 

Which was why, in the end, it was I, and not he, who blurted out, not once, but many, many times: “You’ll kill me if you stop, you’ll kill me if you stop…”

 

Because it was also my way of bringing full circle the dream and the fantasy, me and him, the longed-for words from his mouth to my mouth back into his mouth, swapping words from mouth to mouth, which was when I must have begun using obscenities that he repeated after me, softly at first, till he said, “ **Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine** ,” which I’d once done in my life before and which, as soon as I said my own name as though it were his, took me once again to a realm I only ever shared with Thor while we reached the sweetest and most powerful of releases both of us have ever felt.

 

And while I died from that ephemeral moment, Only Thor endured to worship my motionless remains…

 

My Thor, whose sleeping, nude, and chiseled form had draped possessively beside my own underneath my rumpled bed sheets.

 

Intertwined.

 

That was the only way to describe us in that fragile moment. It was hard to tell where I ended and Thor began. The heady smell of his sunlight hair and tanned skin was everywhere.

 

His life and mine will forever be intertwined; the bonds of brotherhood and our unconditional love carrying us forward to whatever challenges that lay ahead of us.

 

Thor continued to sleep in peace, his handsome face partially obscured by his golden tresses and the pillow that supported his head. I snuggled closer to him and he unconsciously pressed me closer against him; my face barely inches from his as our combined breaths filled that sacred space between our lips.

 

This is how I will always remember Thor: in that place and in that time.

 

Weeks, months, or years from now, maybe we’ll have another falling out, maybe we’ll reconcile with our former lovers, or maybe we’ll get married to each other.

 

There are a thousand possibilities that could happen between us, but I will always look back at this unforgettable morning and remember every single detail of how he looked.

 

I was sheltered in Thor’s strong arms. He didn’t know I was looking at him because he thought I was still sound asleep. When I touched his face a moment later, Thor stirred softly with his distinct growl and then kissed me as he slowly opened his eyes.

 

A light breeze filtered through the open window of my room and gently brushed the blond locks away from Thor’s face, and suddenly his bright blue eyes darkened with a violent passion I instantly recognized; everything he felt towards me distilled into a single word he telepathically relayed from the glassy surface of his eyes:

“ ** _Mine_** …”

The morning light continued to strengthen as the seconds flew by, but Thor’s avaricious stare never faltered with its maddening intensity as I steadfastly responded with a similar look in kind:

 

“ ** _Yours_** …”

 

He had never looked more beautiful than at that moment, illuminated by the rising sun that punctuated his face with so much hope and longing.

 

 _Remember this moment, Loki, and never doubt that he will always love you_ …

 

 

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> So this little one-shot comes with a fanmix of sorts that largely helped me with the writing process. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Björk - "[Possibly Maybe](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tE11_5Spq1I)"  
> Civil Twilight - "[Letters From The Sky](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Wa7dFR09vU)"  
> Florence + The Machine - "[Over The Love](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5AllYPIBbhw)"  
> Sia - "[My Love](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMl8CrLoPDU)"  
> Schiller + Anggun - "[Always You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU_jpYqUqF0)"  
> Afro Celt Sound System - "[The Persistence Of Memory](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmh1cZQuXk)"  
> Haley - "[I Remember [Morning After Mix]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcZGNHJRczI)"


End file.
